


Past & Pending

by meansgirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2010-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansgirl/pseuds/meansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Radek finds Evan Lorne under a tree. A love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past & Pending

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd and encouraged by gblvr and kisahawklin.

**1\. najednou**

A handful of months after they meet, Evan goes to Boston with Radek for a very tedious weekend of presentations and receptions. Two days in, they’re uncomfortable, wearing suits and ties, in the banquet hall of some pretentious Beantown hotel. Evan has wandered to the bar to fetch more drinks and Radek is left alone with Rodney McKay, who has been engaging Radek in the usual song-and-dance to the tune of "No-No-No-You-Are-WrongWrongWRONG" for the last twenty minutes. 

Radek wishes, inside this moment, that he had come alone. He ought to have emphasized what a bore it was all going to be, how much fun Evan _wouldn’t_ be having stuck in physics seminars all day and stuffy cocktail events all night. He might have convinced Evan to stay in New York, and Radek could have suffered through the parties and delighted in the physics and dealt with Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D. Ph.D. without Evan having to witness it.

It’s not that he cares if Rodney informs him, loudly and with hand gestures, that he, Radek, possesses an intellect that is painfully and _hopelessly_ beneath that of him, Rodney. Radek had already known how Evan would react to Rodney. Stifled amusement (biting his cheek,_ notsmiling!notsmiling!not_\--*snort*), covering his face with his hand, eyes laughing to Radek’s as if to say, _Is this guy for real?_

It’s more about the fact that Radek knew that Rodney would have no problem whatsoever making a big, vocal, intrusive deal about--

"Jesus, Zelenka," McKay mutters as soon as Evan heads off toward the bar, "Where the hell did you find _him_?"

And Radek had known that it would come to this, so he volleys back an answer with ease.

"I picked him up. Obviously. In a club on the west side. In the bathroom, would you believe? I believe you would call him a…go-go dancer? Yes, that’s the right word."

_Please_, Radek thinks, _go back to insulting my intelligence. _Because Radek can deal with that; he likes the banter, and knows that Rodney knows (somewhere, deep down) that Radek is more his intellectual match than any one of the number of "geniuses" standing around them in formal attire. Also, once Rodney has asserted himself as (marginally) _smarter_, they can have a real conversation about physics, and Radek enjoys those talks. But no.

"Oh, he is _not_!" Rodney exclaims, "You idiot, I _work_ for the military-industrial complex. I know what I’m looking at, and I am looking at a man with a crew cut. Who has a _crew cut_? The apple pie is practically _seeping from his pores_, and that posture--! God, he has military written all over him. His eyebrows are regulation for Christ’s sake." Rodney pauses for breath and possibly for effect. "So?" he asks conspiratorially, "Marine?"

Rodney is peering at him over the rim of his crystal tumbler and, with a sense of resignation, Radek rolls his eyes before snatching the glass from Rodney’s hand. He drinks the last of the scotch out of it in one swallow before speaking. "Air Force, actually."

"You’re fucking a _flyboy_?" Rodney sputters, and at least three stuffy physicists and their spouses break their necks whipping around to stare at them.

"Shut _up_, Rodney," Radek grits through his teeth, eyes flicking to the bar. Evan is leaning forward with his elbows up on the bar, one foot hooked around the leg of a barstool. Radek keeps his eyes on Evan’s broad, black-jacketed back and says, "He’s not, ah, not military anymore--honorable discharge, you see."

"Oh," says Rodney, following Radek’s eyes to where Evan stands and looking thoughtful for a moment before asking, "Any sexy scars, then? Or did he snap? PTSD? Is he _really_ a go-go boy? He wears camo when he dances, doesn’t he? The city has changed you. What are you doing in go-go bars? He could have any number of diseases! Who knows where—"

Radek mutters under his breath, returns Rodney’s empty glass to his hand, and walks off. He waves his hand over his shoulder at Rodney’s protest. One thing Radek knows from experience—you must walk away from Rodney McKay if you can manage it, before things get ugly--or uglier as the case may be. Walk away before you strangle him.

At the bar, Evan smiles with his white, even teeth. Radek smiles back--he can’t help it because yes, Evan is his flyboy, his made-in-America slice of apple pie. Evan’s brows knit together in question; most likely he noticed the scowl on Radek’s face before it melted away. Possibly he knew to stay at the bar and wait for Hurricane McKay to pass. There aren’t any drinks in his hands. Radek shrugs, smiles again.

"Are we done here?"

Radek sighs with relief. "God, yes."

**

Actually, Radek didn’t _find_ Evan so much as stumble over him, and it wasn't even within spitting distance of a go-go bar. 

Radek has been at Columbia for just under a year when he meets Evan.

It’s September and he’s walking across campus, journal open in his hands, reading as he goes. Distracted by his thoughts (_Well that would be accurate, if you rewrote all the laws of space-time and reordered the universe, but the concepts here…hm. I need to publish again soon, really I should find some time to_\--), Radek fails to notice the pair of sneakers directly in his path. He also fails to notice that his route has actually meandered off the path and under the trees favored by studying undergrads. 

The man who belongs to the sneakers Radek then trips over doesn’t look like an undergrad—a fair bit older than your average grad student, even; too clean cut, actually. Radek regains his equilibrium once both men are standing and brushing dry leaves and grass from their clothing. He doesn’t remember how he came to be upright again, only that strong hands had helped along the way.

"Hey, are you okay? Sorry about that. Sorry. Are you--." The man pauses, shaking his head as though to clear it. "I'm Lorne. Evan. I mean, my name is Evan." He tells Radek, all the while dusting himself off, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck, plucking a brown leaf from Radek’s hair and flicking it away with the other.

Radek fiddles with the earpiece of his glasses, feeling himself flush as he stares blankly down at the journal still clutched in his hand. "Ah, Dr. Zelenka. Radek, that is. It is me who should be sorry for—"

"No worries," says Lorne. Evan. "It was a pleasure to be tripped over by you. Must have been one hell of a read, huh?"

"Ah, sorry, what?"

Evan gestures to the crumpled journal. Radek lifts it and blinks, unable to remember what he had been reading.

"Oh. Not really." A pause, awkward, and Radek isn’t surprised, because he normally isn’t good with people. Now he is flustered and his social competence is compromised even further. He returns his glasses to his face and blinks. Evan is disturbingly attractive, more so now that Radek can see clearly. Radek feels more out of place and jerks his hand in a strange, abortive motion in front of himself. "You, uh…what are you studying?"

"What? Oh! You mean--" Evan gestures vaguely to one of the buildings. His ears are red and he scratches the back of his neck. "Oh, I’m not a student. I, uh…sort of work here. I guess. I do freelance, um…" He coughs, embarrassed. "I model for a drawing class here and there." 

"_Nude_?" Radek blurts and he nearly bites off his tongue, too late to stop the word from spilling out. He must be so red by now, and he knows it’s time to go. It’s definitely time to go. "I mean, no, I didn’t-- Really, I must be going—" 

Evan smiles slow, toothy, and says, "Well…sometimes they ask me to go all out, so, yeah."

"Buh—"

"Look, can I get you a coffee or something?"

Radek accepts. Just like that, and he has his very own flyboy. 

**

Or, it isn’t _really_ just like that.

There is a good amount of shy smiling and blushing and coffee before Evan becomes anything resembling…_his_. 

That first day, they go to a quirky place downtown—Evan lives in Brooklyn, and he had been about to get up and head downtown to catch the L home when Radek tripped over him. Radek doesn't have any more classes to teach for the day and he doubts he would be of any use in the lab, so he travels further downtown with Evan on the 1. It seems silly to take a twenty-minute train ride just for coffee, but Evan is talkative and handsome and Radek is still flustered, so he hardly notices the press of the subway crowd. 

The coffee shop is a twenty-four-hour place with wi-fi, a few beaten-up armchairs and trendily scruffy baristas. It's populated by a mixed crowd of newspaper-toting suits, students and your run-of-the-mill Manhattanites with oversized handbags, backpacks and briefcases knocking into their neighbors. 

Radek finally gets himself together enough to catalogue and analyze the man sitting across from him. Evan Lorne is broad shouldered and muscular, but not large. He’s actually short by most standards, an inch taller than Radek at most. He is handsome in the way all-American boys are handsome—white teeth, easy smile, eyes a startling shade of ice-blue under dark eyebrows. He leans back in his chair, comfortable, and talks easily. He is polite to the barista, smiles at a diminutive old woman behind them in line, offers a nod and a "Ma’am," as they pass.

He is charming but genuine, gorgeous but doesn’t appear to notice, and Radek likes him. He likes him, right then and there, less than an hour after they meet.

They drink their coffee, and Radek learns that Evan spent two semesters at Pratt, hated it, quit, and now waits tables and does freelance modeling for drawing classes. Radek knows those jobs don’t pay for an apartment--not even one in Brooklyn--but doesn’t press for more information.

"So what do you teach, Dr. Zelenka?" Evan asks.

Radek gets the feeling that Evan calls him "Dr. Zelenka" because he thinks it’s funny. He doesn’t mind it, really. He talks about physics for all of two minutes before he stops himself.

"Very boring, really." He says, waving his hand in front of him as though swatting away the subject.

"No!" Evan protests, "It’s…cool."

Radek smiles weakly, but it turns out Evan means it. Radek talks about the 200-level section on classical mechanics he’s teaching this semester, his frustration with the undergrads, his work with his grad students. Evan asks questions, laughs at Radek’s impression of his department head, and tells Radek he was never very good at science or math.

"I was never very good at anything but," Radek says.

"I somehow doubt that," is what Evan says, and Radek blushes again.

A few minutes and some small talk later, they each make their excuses and depart.

The second coffee happens unexpectedly when Radek, rumpled and dark-eyed with exhaustion, stumbles into the same coffee shop around midnight on a Monday. He has no idea what possessed him to travel so far out of his way for coffee, and he isn't sure if he had expected to find Evan there, but that is exactly what happens. As Radek half-stumbles up the curb to the shop, Evan is on his way out the door behind a group of willowy young women. Radek blinks and wonders if he should just keep walking, avoid the discomfort of trying to talk to an almost-stranger this late at night, after hours and hours in the lab pulling at his hair. He’s not _good_ at talking, really. He doesn’t always have the right words in English, unless he’s in a lab, and sometimes the words are right but he_shouldn’t have said them._ Like asking a perfect stranger if he sometimes stands naked before twenty undergraduates, and probably sounding like a lecherous twit.

But Evan double takes, waves the girls on and says "Hi! It’s you! You tripped on me the other day. Remember?"

"Ah…yes? That is…I remember. Hello."

They spend the next two hours talking over strong coffee. Evan’s smile flusters Radek, as does the attractive flush that creeps up Evan’s neck to his ears. They talk about places they have been—Evan is well-traveled, it seems—and their families.

"My mother," Evan says, "would absolutely die if she knew I was drinking coffee this late."

"Mine, not so much. She loved it."

"What are you doing tomorrow morning? Are you teaching?"

"Hm, yes. At nine."

"Coffee, in the morning? I’m working a Drawing I class at ten, we could ride up to campus together."

Radek accepts, nearly vibrating out of his skin from caffeine overload and disbelief as he takes the train twenty blocks uptown to his apartment.

**2\. začalo** 

Several coffees later, and Evan invites Radek to a movie. It’s Sunday morning, and Radek is drinking his coffee with the paper spread across the "breakfast bar," which is more of a small counter with room enough for a coffee cup and one section of the Times and a single stool in front of it, when Evan calls.

"They’re doing a Czech new wave thing at the Forum." Evan says, and Radek isn’t sure but he thinks, judging by the tentative way Evan speaks, that he’s being offered a date.

"Czech new wave?"

"Well, I figured you might…if you don’t want to, that’s—"

"Yes."

"I mean, we could just go—What?"

"Yes. Yes, okay. Czech new wave. I’m not certain what that is, but yes. We’ll go."

After Radek hangs up five minutes later, he casts a look around his apartment, at a loss for what to do now that he has a date (he thinks), with Evan.

He goes to the window, which looks out across an alley to the back of another building. He keeps a canister on the low table under the window. Radek pushes a stack of science journals off the top and opens the canister, taking out a handful of birdseed. He opens the window and sprinkles the seed over the fire escape, for the pigeons. 

**

Czech new wave, it turns out, is an incomprehensible moment in film history. At least, as far as Radek can tell, anyway. Between glimpses of bombings, robotic dialog, strange color flashes, and females in various states of undress, Radek isn’t able to discern much from the film at all. Evan glances at him as they leave the theater. "That was…"

"Very…" Radek fumbles for the right words. "It was, ah…"

"What the fuck did we just see? I mean—"

"I have no idea—"

"_I mean what_—"

Radek is the first to laugh, snorting indelicately and shoving his hands into his pockets.

They’re walking down Houston, toward 6th. It’s chilly, mid-autumn in New York City, and the sun is almost down, which means Manhattan’s tall buildings make it darker on the street.

"It was about war, I think." Evan says, walking in step beside Radek.

"Yes." Radek agrees, "Communism. Decadence. It made no sense whatsoever, but yes. It was about war—after a war."

"Um. When did you…I mean—"

"I left home for university a very long time ago. I have been back, but my family left also, after I had been working for some time. My sister did go back, ten years ago or so. I don’t have much time to visit her, but when it’s possible, I do." Radek says, "What you saw, at the beginning of the film, it’s not exactly how it was when I was young. It wasn’t _quite_ so…"

"Fucked up?"

"No, it was certainly that. When I was young. After the war, during the regime, and then I left. It’s much different now."

"War changes a place," says Evan, with such certainty, such knowledge behind the words that Radek suddenly_knows_ something he hadn’t known before. Evan has seen a war. This is one of those getting-to-know-you moments, the kind in which years and years of personal history begin to surface and ripple between two people. It’s tricky ground.

"And changes people, too," Radek supplies, watching Evan’s profile. 

"Yep," is all Evan says.

Radek changes the subject. "It was an odd film, but it was thoughtful of you to ask me. Thank you."

"No problem."

Evan’s ears turn red.

They walk on and on, making small talk sometimes, keeping quiet at others. Radek wonders in which branch Evan served, and where he had toured. He wants and does not want to ask. He doesn’t know if it’s too forward to just_ask_. Evan will probably just tell him because that’s how he is—honest, direct.

Their shoulders bump as they pass by crowds on the sidewalk. It’s comfortable, but it zings at the edges. Radek is hyperaware of each brush of arm to arm, each time Evan turns to speak and his breath is warm on the fall air. He’s "got it bad," as that saying goes. He wonders if his face is red. It sometimes happens, even if he’s only _thinking_something that makes him nervous and shy.

They have been walking in silence for blocks when, on the corner of Spring and Broadway, in the snappy chill of SoHo, Evan stops Radek with a touch to the wrist. He opens his mouth to speak, shuts it, flashes a self-deprecating smile and then he leans down and presses his mouth sweetly to Radek’s. 

And _then_, it’s just like _that_.

All the things Radek wants to know swirl out and around, and he is sure in the knowledge that he’s going to find out everything there is, all the pieces that make up Evan Lorne, model/waiter/artist/soldier, in due time. 

**3\. zjišťovat** 

Evan's father is a foreman in a factory, and his mother teaches art to elementary school children. He grew up in the blue collar suburbs, played hockey, football, and baseball as a kid. He painted with his mother on weekends. He tells Radek about joining the Air Force right out of high school, and that he served for nearly fifteen years before he was discharged. His parents still live in the house Evan was raised in, halfway across the country. 

He tells Radek these things in fits and bursts of vague information over coffees in the weeks leading up to the first date and the days following it. Evan doesn’t _try_ to come off as mysterious, but he doesn’t say anything unless Radek asks for the information. Radek is never certain what is his business and what is not, so he is hesitant to pry. So, without meaning to be, Evan is just that—mysterious.

They go to another movie, this time a sci-fi b-movie from the 70's full of bad science and buxom blondes. They have lunch twice between Radek’s classes and office hours. They start to spend the fleeting hours between Radek's classes and Evan's late shift together in Radek's office with the blinds closed. It is on a particularly memorable evening after office hours that Evan leaves a spectacular bite mark just below the collar of Radek's shirt. He touches the purpling circle of half-moons and winks before heading out. Radek shuffles and re-stacks the pile of homework assignments that got shoved aside earlier, and thinks that maybe some things are okay to ask now.

Over tandoori chicken, Radek starts asking and learns that Evan Lorne used to be _Major Evan Lorne_. He learns that four years ago, Evan fell out of the sky, sustaining broken bones, some nerve damage and a skull fracture. According to the doctors, he's lucky he didn't break his _neck_. 

"Wasn't that bad, tell you the truth," Evan says, focusing mainly on his chicken. Radek is agape across the table. His life has been spent turning the sky into numbers, mapping it out on white boards, and Evan has actually _fallen out of it in a ball of flame_.

"I…did you. What—"

"Pins in my right arm." Evan supplies, "Good thing I'm left-handed; couldn't paint with the bad arm. Gets achy. I ended up with a pretty badass scar on my thigh, too. Lots of stitches. Lots of...stuff."

Radek shakes his head absently, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of his beer. He watches Evan as he tucks in to his spicy chicken as if he hasn't been talking about his near-death experience and for a moment, Radek's mind stutters over these new details. Air Force. Afghanistan. Broken. Brave. And then the part of his brain that overrides reason and decorum, but feeds off this sudden surge of _feeling_ for the man sitting across from him, chimes in. Radek can feel the heat rise to his face, even while he tries to keep the conversation going.

"And then?" Radek prompts. He isn't hungry anymore, but Evan scrapes up the last of the rice on his plate as though he won't rest until all evidence that there was ever food there is gone.   
"Then, they offered me the discharge and I took it. Turns out crashing in the desert really sucks, and I didn't want to ever do it again."

There's more there, but Radek doubts it would qualify as light dinner conversation.  
Despite all his best efforts to stay focused, Radek's thoughts go to that scar on Evan's thigh and he suddenly wants to see it. Not just the scar, but Evan's bare thigh. Naked shoulders. The places on his arm where there once were pins holding bone in place. His _back_. Everything hundreds of undergrad art students have seen, only Radek will get to touch—run his fingers over the ridges of scar, press his palms into muscle and wrap a thumb around hipbone.

It's not as if Radek hasn't thought all of this before.

These are things Radek has thought about since coffee number one, and fantasized about since somewhere around coffee number three, and anticipated ever since two weeks ago when Evan swept his tongue over Radek's bottom lip on a corner in SoHo. Two days after that, they shared a chocolate-mocha-flavored kiss after coffee, leaving Radek flustered for his three o'clock class. Three days ago, pressed against the wall behind the (tightly shut) door to Radek's office at Columbia ("I sat for freshmen today in my skivvies, thought I'd swing by"), Evan sank his teeth into the tender skin of Radek's neck, Radek's fingers digging into his shoulders. The sharp bite of teeth to tendon, the soothing sweep of tongue that followed--all of it is fuel for fantasy, for the nerves that make Radek's hands jump a little more when he speaks as dinner winds down. 

The difference between before and right now is that Radek suddenly wants with an intensity that blindsides him. But isn't at all surprising once he takes a moment to regain his footing, watches Evan watching him over his beer. The truth, the whole truth, crystallizes like an equation; like the arguments for a proof sliding and clicking into place. It is more thrilling than feeling like he's understood a new, infinitesimal slice of the universe. The answer to the equation is this: Radek is going to get Evan Lorne naked before the night is over. 

Miraculously, he manages not to say so out loud. But for the rest of the meal, he can barely speak through the want. If someone asked him to explain any one of the topics he spends his day teaching to fresh-faced university students, Radek wouldn't know where to begin. If he were to be presented with _long division_, he couldn't do it. Every synapse in his brain is firing on _want, please, touch_ and it's all in Czech because he's lost his English. Radek finally manages polysyllabic speech as they gather up their jackets after the meal. He says it all quickly, before he can talk himself out of it.

"Would you like to come over, have a drink?" 

His face burns and burns. Evan smiles, slow, and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good." 

**

Radek struggles with the front door; the lock requires an elaborate push-pull-twist-push and it’s even more of a trial with his thoughts racing as they are. Evan stands behind him, chatting away, while Radek is wondering just how much of a disaster he left the apartment. He wonders if he made up the bed, if the sink is full, if he left the windows open and pigeons got in again.

Radek finally gets the deadbolt open and slides the key into the doorknob, just as he notices the dead silence of the hallway. He pauses and looks over his shoulder. His breath dies in his throat.

Evan is watching him with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes shadowed in the bad light of the hall. Radek opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it (how easily he could talk himself into a very bad place just now), and reaches for Evan just as Evan is reaching towards him.

In the blink of an eye, Radek has pulled Evan in and leant back against the door to his tiny apartment. Evan is pressing him back harder, attacking Radek’s mouth with intense enthusiasm and single-minded concentration. He pushes his knee between Radek’s legs and Radek manages to get his hand between them, pressing his palm to the fly of Evan’s jeans. 

Evan groans into his mouth and Radek fumbles blindly backward for his keys. There is a jangling, the click of the lock and Radek tries the doorknob three times before the door swings open. He nearly stumbles but Evan holds them up and removes the keys from the lock as he’s shutting the door behind them.

The keys clatter distantly on the floor as they fall backwards onto the sofa. Radek's head nearly smacks into the end table as they go down. Evan laughs against Radek’s throat as he extracts a stray copy of Science from somewhere underneath them and tosses it to the side.

They are at it like teenagers on the couch, hands shoved under shirts and legs tangling to pull their hips together. They can't find the right sort of friction while skin is still hidden under layers of fabric, but every time they manage to push up, press down, and slide _just right _they exhale together, noises of satisfaction and anticipation thrumming between them. 

"This is difficult," says Radek, still fumbling with Evan’s belt buckle in the cramped space allowed by the sofa. Evan leans up on both hands and for the first time in what feels like eons, Radek can see his eyes again. Awareness slams him behind the ribs, and he can’t speak or look away.

How did he end up here, with this man? He fell over him under a tree and now, in a matter of weeks, he is aching,_dying_ to get his hands on every inch of Evan's exposed torso. He isn’t sure if he is in love, or on his way there, or simply lustful—no. He is sure that it isn’t base lust. It’s strange, how easily Evan slid into Radek’s life. Radek has never been one to collect friends. He has friends, scattered at universities and in governments over the globe. But there came a time when he simply stopped going out of his way to meet new people, and as far as romantic relationships go…

He hadn’t even been in the same country the last time he was involved romantically with a man. Radek works, he publishes papers, he plays cut-throat games of chess with old colleagues over the internet, and he feeds the birds from his fire escape. He lives alone, and happily so; he doesn't spare much thought for romances past, and he doesn't look for them to happen in the present. Radek has never been one to concern himself with the future. 

And now he lay pinned beneath a man who could only be described as beautiful, who is brave and intelligent, talented, _sweet_. Radek can feel himself rocketing towards something wonderful and so very _different_, and he has no idea how it happened. His hands are wrapped around Evan’s forearms, and Evan is smiling, slow and sly. 

"What?" Evan asks, rising up to his knees. He holds out a hand and pulls Radek up so that they’re face to face again, wraps an arm behind Radek, holding him up, brushing their chests together.

"Nothing." Radek murmurs, shaking his head slowly absently as he tries to slow his heart, gather his thoughts, get a grip on himself. "It’s…ah, its nothing. Just…I’m surprised."

Evan quirks a dark eyebrow, "Surprised?"

"I'm afraid I don't know how to--You…why you would—and how?" Radek shrugs, sighs, lets his head loll forward to rest on Evan’s shoulder. He is achingly hard, his heart is still racing and his thoughts won’t align with language. He is frustrated with himself, and is about to try again when Evan figures it out—how does Evan figure it out? 

He feels Evan shift a bit and lean down. Evan’s breath huffs close, his lips touching Radek’s earlobe when he says, "You’re amazing. That’s why. And how? I dunno, Radek…Jesus, I don’t know. I want to—can we please get up and find your bed, now?"

"Yes—yes, now." Radek pushes up with his hips, and Evan laughs as he trip-stumble-jumps up, pulling Radek with him.

They reach Radek’s cluttered bedroom-slash-office, leaving a trail of denim behind them. Radek is propped up against his dresser, and Evan is on his knees in front of him in a flash of movement and a burst of heat.

Radek thinks wildly of supernovas, of radiation and eradicated galaxies as Evan slides Radek’s underwear off his hips and closes first his hand then his hot mouth around Radek’s cock.

Radek curses fluently, rapidly, his head knocking back and upsetting the piles of books and paper scattered across the top of the dresser. Evan pulls his mouth away and looks up. Radek stares down at him, gulping for air. "That wasn’t English, whatever you just said." Evan says. He grips Radek’s hips with both hands and pushes him back, holding him against the dresser. A drawer pull digs into Radek’s back and he doesn’t care because Evan is murmuring, "It was fucking sexy," and closing his mouth around him again.

Radek tells him, in Czech, how beautiful he looks on his knees, how perfect his mouth is, how he doesn’t know what’s happened to him but… 

Radek tells him, in Czech, how he’s not going to last, not going to—"I can’t—"

Evan hums encouragement, tightens one hand around Radek’s hip and trails the other to his ass, squeezing then stroking, then back around to the inside of Radek’s thigh. As vibration hums around him and Evan’s fingers slide between his legs to tease the spot just behind his balls, Radek comes hard with his eyes slammed shut and his head thrown back. Evan's hands stroke Radek's thighs sweetly as his mouth slides away. Radek stares down at Evan's upturned face through a haze and thinks _lovely_, before his legs give out. 

Evan carries him down as his knees buckle, settling him on the floor then covering Radek’s body with his own and licking into Radek’s mouth.

"Oh, my God." Radek manages to pant, tasting himself on Evan’s lips and surging up into the kiss.

"I—" Evan begins, looking down at him with both hands framing Radek’s face, "God."

He gently removes Radek’s glasses, folds them carefully and sets them on the floor beside them. Radek wants to protest—he can’t see as well now and he wants to see everything, but Evan shushes him, "Just for a second I want to—"

Radek subsides, knowing he must look owlish without his glasses. But Evan just sighs and presses his forehead to Radek’s. "Can I…"

"Yes," Radek replies, "Yes."

As Evan helps him up, Radek thinks to make a grab for his glasses. He tosses them on top of the dresser while Evan kisses him again, smoothes his hands over Radek’s chest. Radek pushes him back toward the bed, presses him down so he’s lying back propped up on elbows. Evan’s boxers are soon lying on the floor in a crumpled pile of cotton. Radek leans over him, brushes his lips against one pebbled nipple, and closes his hand around Evan’s cock. They both let out low sounds as Radek squeezes gently and slides his hand up and down slowly, fingers sliding up and over the slick head, then back down to tease velvety skin.

Evan settles back, stretched and liquid under Radek’s hands and mouth. Radek straddles Evan’s thighs, the places where their skin meets hot and slick with sweat. His vision is blurred, so he maps Evan’s body with his hands, finding ridges of scars on his right arm and the jut of hipbone and tautness of muscle over his torso. He keeps one hand stroking Evan’s cock, finds himself murmuring things under his breath—things even he can’t decipher. Eventually Evan stops his hand, grasping his wrist and groaning, "I want to last. I want —in you. Now. Please?"

Radek reaches for the bedside table.

Evan turns him over, all dark eyes and nipping teeth, so that he rests between Radek’s legs, their cocks pressed together—Radek is hard again, and he can’t remember the last time he was able to do _that_. Evan twists onto his side and in a moment has two slick fingers pressed against Radek's hole and Radek gasps at the feel of him and the cold of the lube. Evan’s fingers circle then push, sliding into him and Radek twitches, adjusts, and fists his hands in the sheets.

"Perfect," Evan says, twisting his fingers, pulling them out then pushing back in and up.

Radek is practically sobbing within two minutes of those sturdy fingers thrusting slowly into him, and he would beg if he didn’t know that Evan is just waiting, for something, for a sign. Evan will know when—he seems to just know, and Radek can just let him. He can let go and—

"Ready?" Evan asks, and his voice is low and it rumbles and he’s sliding his fingers out while he reaches for a condom. He rolls it on, rests on his heels and strokes a lube-slick hand over his own cock. 

"God, yes, _ano_—_prosím_—please." 

Evan is smiling again when he pushes Radek’s knees further apart, presses them up and back against Radek’s chest. "I can’t tell you," he says, gripping Radek with his slippery hand, "how much Czech is starting to turn me on." 

Radek huffs out a laugh and pulls Evan down with one hand on his neck to kiss him through the laughter. "That’s good."

"Yeah," Evan says, and pushes into him.

Radek doesn’t think about supernovas, he sees them on the backs of his eyelids in vivid magenta and rolling waves of electric blue. Evan makes a breaking sound and moves and Radek opens his eyes, gasping through the first slow thrust.

"Alright?"

"Yes, yes...Good." 

"I--" Evan stills, "You feel like…"

Radek groans, pushes his hands through the short spikes of Evan’s hair. "Please, don’t stop."

Evan moves, rolls his hips and tightens his grip on the backs of Radek's knees. He tilts his head back, exposing his neck and chest. Radek untangles the fingers of one hand from Evans hair, sliding it down to tweak one nipple, pinches to elicit another sound that vibrates through him. Evan’s hips snap involuntarily.

"Radek—" 

"Yes." 

Radek devotes one hand to skimming over Evan’s skin, across his chest, up to his shoulder to squeeze, into his hair to knot his fingers in the strands. With the other, he strokes himself slowly, matching the slide of his hand with the tempo of Evan's hips. Evan tilts Radek’s hips up, hitching his legs higher and hits an angle that rolls Radek’s eyes up and back, pulls from him sounds he shouldn’t be able to make--he hasn’t the breath to make them. Radek's fingers tighten in Evan’s hair and around his own cock, his mouth falls open, and he comes again. It's almost painful, but not quite. Radek coasts the waves of pleasure and twinges of too-old-for-this, gasping.

Evan lets go of Radek’s legs, uses his shoulders as leverage, hooking Radek's knees over them as he leans forward on his elbows. He bites at Radek’s lower lip as he thrusts harder, moving faster, then erratically. They are tangled, Radek is bent in ways that will ache in the morning, and their foreheads bang together as Evan pushes in deep with a low, bone-deep groan and comes, panting into Radek’s mouth. 

**

In the morning, Radek finds Evan in his boxers, sitting up next to him in bed with coffee in hand and one of hundreds of copies of Science that Radek keeps lying around open in his lap. He looks down to see Radek is awake and reaches for a second cup of coffee waiting on the nightstand.

"Morning," he says, smiling brilliantly.

Radek sits up and takes the coffee, wrapping his hands around the mug. He looks down at it, slightly lightened with milk—just the way he likes it. Then he looks up at Evan, who is watching him over the rim of his coffee cup.

_I am in love with you,_ Radek thinks. He says, "Thank you," and takes a sip of coffee.

"Wanna go meet someone today?" Evan asks.

**

__  
  
**4\. cizí** 

Laura Cadman was a classmate of Evan’s at Pratt. She dropped out too, and now she sits in a dusty out-of-the-way vintage shop below 14th street, sewing costumes and gluing beads and painstakingly sewing LED’s to leotards and shoes and leggings behind the counter. When customers wander in, she smiles and tells them to holler if they need anything.

When Evan brings Radek to see her, she drops what she’s doing and rounds the counter, a ball of blond energy flinging itself at Evan in a flurry of soft sweater and scuffed suede.

"I think you’ll fall in love with her," Evan had said as they disembarked their subway car. "She’s a math genius, invented a theorem when she was thirteen. Didn’t do the proofs, though. They gave it to some post-grad to complete, probably. She was in the school play—didn’t have the time."

The description is overlaid with affection and amusement. "She comes from a military family. Black sheep of her family, but the darling of everyone else. She’s tough, really tough, and weird as she is hardcore. You’re going to like her, I know you’re going to like her."

Radek immediately does.

Laura has a drawl to her voice, the constant sound of a smile in her speech. She wears her hair in a messy French plait, no makeup, and could pass for a ballerina taking a rest in her leggings, legwarmers, tank top and the wrap around sweater hanging loosely off her frame.

She takes one look at Radek and beams, "You’re the scientist."

"I am?" Radek glances at Evan, ducks his head and smiles, and then nods before looking back up at Laura. "Yes, I am. _The scientist_."

"He’s never brought me anyone," Laura says, heading back to her counter. She gestures to some chairs with price tags pinned to the upholstery, "Sit. But then he brings me you, and from what I hear, you’re a genius. It’s very interesting."

"Ah, yes?" Radek shrugs out of his jacket and unwinds his scarf before sitting down on the ugliest, most comfortable chair in the world.

"Laura thinks she’s my mother," Evan says fondly.

"I don’t!" She protests. She has picked up an unidentifiable bundle of slinky blue fabric, shot through with embroidery in black, speckled with glittering sequins. She shakes it out to show it off. It’s a dress, and looks something like what a figure skater might wear. "For Lorenza’s one-woman next week."

Evan is getting comfortable in the chair nearest Radek, and he nods. "Looks good. Very sparkly. She’ll like that."

"Mm," Laura agrees. "Once this is finished I can get started on the bits and pieces for your show."

"You are doing a show?" Radek starts, "What kind of—"

"I’m not doing a show. Or a piece. Or anything Laura decides to call it."

Evan glares at Laura, but she just smiles and folds the blue skater-dress carefully. "I have written it for you, so you’re going to have to do it. Or else you will live with the knowledge that you have failed me, your art and humanity. Face it, Lorne, you’re doing the piece."

Evan looks over at Radek, sighing. Radek quirks one eyebrow, "Piece?"

"_Performance art_." Evan sneers, mock-shuddering. "And I’m not doing it."

"He doesn’t even know what it is," Laura provides helpfully.

"I don’t do performance art."

"You will, though. When you see.

"No."

Radek's eyes flick back and forth over the two of them. Evan glares at Laura with his arms folded across his chest, but Laura is just grinning back as she shakes out a length of fabric. 

"I think I'll break him, don't you Radek?" Laura says.

Evan throws up his hands. Radek huffs a laugh, "You are a very persistent woman. I think you could."

"Don't bet on it," Evan mutters. He plays with the brim of a dry-rotted straw hat on the shelf beside his chair. 

Laura quirks an eyebrow. "Ten bucks says I'll get you to do it."

"I'd go for fifteen," Radek encourages "Maybe even twenty."

Evan chucks the hat at him and Radek fumbles for it, laughing.

**

Laura is perhaps the easiest person to like in the entire universe. Radek likes people, in general. He sometimes forgets that he does, because he spends so much time around people who work in his own field—and many people in Radek’s field would prefer a night in the sim lab alone to a night in the sim lab chatting amiably while the computers run the simulations in the background or, god forbid, a night out. Most conversations turn into arguments, and while Radek can hold his own there—he can always stop speaking English when his last nerve has been played—too much time in the lab can cause Radek to forget how nice people can actually be.

Radek liked Evan immediately, and it’s quite similar when he meets Laura. It’s something about them, a personality trait they share. It’s openness, an honest face and honest words. They don’t present themselves as novels for you to read at first glance; don’t offer up too much information at once. But they are free with words, with smiles, with teasing and conversation. It’s something Radek is drawn to, something he isn’t accustomed to, but something he could get used to. 

Also, twenty minutes after their arrival at the store, Laura proposes a game of Prime/Not Prime and as predicted, Radek falls in love with her.

**

Over the next months (freezing New York City winter) Radek attends Lorenza’s one-woman show (Lorenza is a friend of a friend who became just a friend, and she is involved in _performance art_, two words Evan simply can not utter without venom) and it perplexes him (there is wailing, laughing, poetry and music, with some interpretive dance to shake things up here or there) and gives him reason to kiss away the scowl on Evan’s face.

"Laura is still harping on her idea for me," Evan grumbles later, when they are huddled together in a cab bound for Murray Hill and Radek’s walkup.

"Well…surely, it wouldn’t be like…that. What we just saw."

Evan snorts. "No, it would be worse."

"She says it’s about you. What does she mean?"

"Knowing Laura, it probably means me, naked, on a box, on a stage, for two hours. She’ll call it art."

"Well," Radek says reasonably, "Isn’t it?"

Evan gives him a withering look, but it doesn’t last. He snorts again, shakes his head and the frown is shaken off and replaced with a smile. He tilts his head back against the seat and lolls toward Radek. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Doctor."

**5\. Vášnivý**

There is a winter weather advisory on the news. Radek snorts and turns it off. He twists around in his chair to look at Evan, perched by the window on a wooden stool. Beyond, snow is coming down in droves over Brooklyn.

Evan’s apartment is unbearably hot since the boiler went berserk last week and the temperatures inside have skyrocketed. Evan is shirtless, the legs of his plaid pajama pants rolled up to the knees. His feet are bare, toes curled around the top rung of the stool. The window is cracked and a little steamy.

They would go to Radek’s place in the city were it not for an unfortunate bed bug problem on the third floor of his building and the apocalyptic weather outside. Heat problems aside, Radek is content where he is. He has exams in a stack at his elbow, coffee to his left, and Evan is painting half-naked by the window. It is, he thinks, the perfect day.

As Evan paints, Radek watches as the reds and oranges that had seemed so shapeless only an hour ago take form as a network of vein-like tendrils, twisting and wrapping around one another, forming a web that covers something underneath. Radek has no idea what it is, but it is both real and surreal. It could be muscle cording over bone, were it not for the fact that whatever Evan is painting appears to undulate over something that is gunmetal gray, nearly blue.

Radek tosses down his red pen and stands to stretch. Evan glances over his shoulder.

"Had enough of classical mechanics?"

"I had enough long ago," Radek mutters, pushing on his lower back and feeling bones and muscles pop. He looks at Evan’s painting and can almost see the shift that is happening under his own skin in the brushstrokes. "I’m too old for teaching. The sitting alone is enough to want to quit."

"You should try yoga," Evan remarks, setting aside his brushes and the palette of oils.

"You only want to get me into one of those ridiculous outfits."

"That, and downward dog is never hard to look at."

Radek smirks, tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, which is a bit sticky in the warmth of the apartment. "Why not skip yoga all together?"

"Need some limbering up, Dr. Zelenka?"

"Are you offering?"

Evan springs up from his stool and practically bounces across the room, bare feet slapping on hardwood. His arms come up around Radek's neck and he grins. "You sure you're up for it?"

Radek presses closer, pulling Evan in by the hips. "The question is, I think, are _you_?"

Evan laughs low, dropping his lips to the patch of skin below Radek's ear. He flicks his tongue out to taste, then presses his mouth firmly to the spot, sucking softly then backing off with a nip that sends a shiver down Radek's spine. "Oh," Evan says, his lips brushing the shell of Radek's ear, "I think I can manage."

Radek laughs and starts for the bed, tugging Evan with him, but Evan tugs back with more strength than Radek is prepared for. He finds himself reeled back in, held tight to Evan's chest with Evan's hot mouth over his and their hips pressed firmly together. Radek hums into the kiss, and tries to walk backwards, urging Evan to move with him. Evan doesn't budge, and Radek makes an impatient sound that earns a low chuckle. 

"Impatient?" Evan says, pulling back enough that Radek can see the mischief in his eyes. 

"A little, yes." Radek shifts, still trying to coerce Evan towards the bed. 

"We're not going over there."

Radek raises his eyebrows. "The lube is over there."

"Ah," Evan snaps his fingers. "Right. C'mere, then." 

Evan leads Radek to the ratty couch and pushes him down on it. He holds up a finger and says, "Hang on a sec."

Radek takes this opportunity to strip off his t-shirt. It really is hot in the little studio apartment; the loss of fabric doesn't cool his skin by much. Evan returns, tossing a tube and a condom on the floor before pulling Radek up by the hands and setting his attention on getting Radek's shorts off. 

Evan kneels on the floor while Radek steps out of the last of his clothes. He reaches out and pulls, knocking Radek off balance and sending him down to the floor. Radek catches himself before he flails backward, latching on to Evan's shoulders, wide-eyed.

"It's nice when you fall all over me." Evan says with a wink.

"You have too many clothes." Radek mutters, slipping his fingers inside the elastic at the back of Evan's pants. 

"Mm."

Radek settles back on his heels so Evan has room to wriggle out of the lounge pants, then Evan tugs him close again, arranging them so that Evan is on his knees, feet under him, and Radek straddles his thighs. Radek fingers the thick white scar tissue along one tanned muscle and bites Evan's lower lip.

"Evan?"

"Mmm?"

"Why are we on the floor?"

Evan laughs and pushes Radek back to lean against the bottom of the couch, stretching him out, arranging Radek's legs over his own. "We're stretching," he says. 

"Ah..." Radek blinks twice, slowly. "I'm really not that flexible."

"I think you're underestimating yourself." Evan says, holding the condom between two fingers, eyebrows raised. "Touch yourself, Radek."

Radek obeys without thought. Evan's voice goes straight to his cock, and the need to touch is overwhelming.

Evan is quick with lube to fingers, fingers to Radek's ass, laughing when Radek gasps and tightens his grip around his cock. "Good," Evan murmurs. "Hang on, don't--"

Radek squeezes tighter, clenches his jaw, as two fingers are worked inside him. A lot of preparation isn't necessary, considering the position Radek had been in the previous night. Twice. But Evan draws it out anyway, stroking in and out slowly, curling his index finger just so. Radek is flopped back, one arm supporting his weight against the sofa, his legs splayed open over Evan's hard thighs. He knows how he looks, spread and flushed with Evan's fingers fucking him ever harder. Radek pinches the base of his dick and wills himself not to come right there.

"You're gonna shake right out of your skin." Evan comments idly, so calm and smirking that Radek almost snaps at him--Shut up already and do it.

The need is removed, however, because Evan pulls his slick hand away and reaches for the condom again. 

Radek growls under his breath, "Finally. _Kříženec_." 

Evan shakes his head, smiling, thrusts his hips forward into his own hand, smoothing latex over his cock and then lube. "C'mere."

Radek distantly wonders if he is supposed to be _moving_ somehow, but then Evan is hauling him by the legs, shifting the world without warning and Radek loses the support of the furniture. He saves his head from cracking on the hard floor by catching himself on his elbows. Evan is rising up on his knees, pulling Radek's legs up and further apart. and then somehow he's sliding inside and at this angle--

"_Oh, God_."

Radek might have said that, but no that was _Evan_. Evan, who had been so sly with his smile and his slow fingers, now with his head bent back and throat bared as he holds Radek open, holds him down without trying--Radek is beyond moving--twisted as he is, filled as he is. Evan pushes in, hard, and Radek swallows his own moans, fists his own cock again, and Evan _talks_.

"Jesus, Radek. You should see yourself--You're...Oh, my God--"

And rambles on, and on, more words than Radek is used to hearing from Evan. He feels each word like a spark, traveling down a line from the top of his head to the base of his cock. He tries to say he's too close, that Evan should _stop talking_ before it all ends too quickly, but he can't seem to catch the breath to speak. Radek is bent backwards and gasping for air, one arm flung over his head, trying to push against the floor for leverage, but to no avail. His hips are off the floor, legs tangled in Evan's arms and hands and his _back hurts_ and he's _coming_. Hard.

Radek is still seeing stars when Evan shudders and shouts, thrusting deep and babbling a litany of curses and endearments that Radek can't untangle through the fog he's in. He may even black out a bit while Evan pulls out with a groan, takes care of the condom, then starts yanking sofa cushions down to the floor. Radek finds himself arranged quite comfortably on top of them, with Evan's strong fingers working the muscles in Radek's back and thighs. 

"That was _not_ like yoga."

Evan laughs and lightly slaps Radek's thigh. "Not exactly."

"I'm going to Boston," Radek blurts. "Soon, for a physics convention. You should go with me."

Evan's fingers keep kneading and caressing, and he says, "Okay."

Later, Radek is half dressed again and pouring out his cold coffee. Evan is still naked, seemingly unaware of this fact, and standing with his hands on his hips in front of his painting.

"What is it?" Radek asks, still so relaxed from the impromptu massage that he doesn't think about prying before he does it.

Evan twists to look at Radek, muscles sliding and working under skin, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Radek imagines the hundreds of drawings of Evan's body and face rendered by amateur university students, and he wonders if any of them are good enough to capture the way Evan's eyes are always smiling. 

"It's..." Evan sighs, turns back to the painting and shrugs. "It's just something I thought up one day."

Radek doesn't comment, though he knows that Evan would have looked at him when he spoke if he wasn't omitting the truth. He starts a new pot of coffee while Evan cleans his brushes and puts the painting in a corner, out of the way.

**

**6\. vřava**

It is February, almost six months since they met and two since the trip to Boston. Radek is waiting outside the arts building in a freezing rain, clutching an umbrella with numb fingers and fighting the urge to pace.

He's nervous, as he usually is these days when Evan is part of the equation. It started in Boston and has gotten progressively…worse. Radek doesn’t know if it’s a worsening or an increasing discord, or if he’s imagining it entirely. But if he isn’t making it up in his head, if he’s right, something is very wrong.

Evan is distant, or he’s desperate with the need to be near, or he is a strange combination of both. Radek has searched for a hint, a clue, as to what it could be and he simply can’t find anything that could explain the constant shifts in mood. Evan has been painting constantly, appears healthy, speaks to his mother every Sunday and never has a negative thing to say about the conversations. Radek can’t say their sex life is changed because if anything…

He is still shaken from an incident that had occurred the day before.

Radek had been in his office, later in the evening that usual, but he was preoccupied with a peer review that he wanted to make some headway with before going home for the night. Besides, he hadn’t any plans for the night. Evan was working the dinner shift that night and wouldn’t be off until after midnight. Radek expected he would work late, order carry out and eat at home in front of the news. Most likely, he would fall asleep before midnight and wake up when Evan came in, shaking him awake to move him into the bedroom.

Radek was tapping his pen against the desk, blinking and rereading a paragraph that didn’t make even the smallest amount of sense—the paper was really horrific—when his office door opened without a knock. He looked up, pushing his glasses up from where they had slid down his nose, opening his mouth to tell whichever insane grad student was traipsing in at seven p.m. that his office hours were long over.

Evan slid through the open door, shutting it behind him and leaning against it with his hands clasped behind his back. Immediately, Radek was worried, which was nothing new. For weeks he had been worried, catching an expression in Evan’s face, a tone to his voice that just wasn’t quite right. Now Evan’s eyes were shuttered, his mouth a hard line. He was flushed from the cold outside, and his chest heaved. He was dressed in his running clothes. Radek wondered if Evan had been running in the park or if he had run all the way from Brooklyn—he wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it turned out to be the latter.

Radek made to stand up, to ask what was wrong but Evan held up his hand and said, "Don’t," with a snap to his voice that seemed to startle him as much as it did Radek. He took a struggling breath in and said, softly, "Don’t stand up, I mean. Stay there. Okay?"

"Alright," Radek agreed, settling back into his chair. "Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," Evan said. He took another gulp of air and pulled off the grey knit cap he always wore to run in the cold. His hair, which was growing out a bit, stood on end in every direction. He tossed the hat on one of the chairs in front of Radek’s desk and shucked off his jacket, throwing it there.

"I thought you had a shift."

"Did. Called out."

"Really?" Radek’s eyebrows came up of their own accord. He couldn’t school his features, couldn’t hide his concern. He was never good at things like that. It was unlike Evan to skip work for no reason. "Why?"

"Needed you." Evan said.

"Evan—"

But Evan wouldn’t let him be concerned, wouldn’t hear it in his voice, so he cut him off. "Can I blow you?"

Radek’s jaw dropped, "What are you--" 

"Let me," Evan murmured, rounding the desk with a smile that wasn’t easy like his usual toothy grin. Evan dropped gracefully to his knees at Radek’s feet. He looked up through his eyelashes in a way that managed to be both arousing and off-putting. "Don’t you want me to?"

Radek stands in the icy drizzle and remembers how he had hooked one hand under Evan’s chin, guiding him up off the floor, kissing him softly.

"Love you," Evan had murmured, and Radek had smiled.

"I love you too, _miláčku_. Tell me what is wrong."

"Nothing, it’s nothing." 

The word "nothing" echoes through Radek’s brain while he waits. Evan had settled himself into Radek’s lap, kissed his face, sighed into his hair. The more Evan touched and stroked, the more he relaxed. The tightly wound muscles in his shoulders and thighs and the steely posture of his spine, melted as soon as Radek let him touch and mouth and grind, and eventually Evan had sunk back to the floor, pulling Radek’s pants with him. 

Radek worries and worries, and sometimes he wonders if Evan's behavior is all because of him, whether Evan wants out. But as often as the thought enters his mind, Radek can dismiss it because he doesn’t know a single person alive who can lie that well—and Radek has known liars. Evan loves him; it’s a truth Radek has learned to accept since the first time he heard the words. Radek can’t doubt it, because he loves Evan with his entire body, with every movement he makes and Evan…

No one has ever loved Radek so well. Radek has never loved like this. It is this love, and the knowledge that he is loved back, that makes Radek worry, causes him to wake at night to wrinkle his brow at Evan, wondering _What is wrong_, and begging Evan’s sleeping face to _Tell me, tell me… _

Radek is contemplating going inside to wait when Evan appears, swinging the door open and darting under Radek’s umbrella to drop a kiss on his lips and offer the restrained smile he favors these days. His breath fogs in the air when he says, "Sorry, have you been waiting long?"

"No, not that long," Radek says, "Do you want to hurry away before the dreaded undergrads begin attacking for your phone number?"

"Please, God." Evan agrees with a smile that just barely falls short of his eyes. "We have just enough time to get downtown, I think."

Radek nods, "In a taxi. It is too cold to stand around a platform."

"I’m not gonna argue."

They hail a cab and are gripping handles and hands as they squeal off into Manhattan traffic. 

**

They arrive at the gallery, where some of Laura’s sculptures are involved in a new exhibition entitled _New Mediums_, almost ten minutes late. Evan had seemed fine as far as Radek could tell on the cab ride downtown. But while he is less tense than he has been, he isn't his usual self. There is a tightness to his shoulders, a strange crinkle in the corners of his smile, and when he speaks it’s like he’s choosing his words carefully, measuring them before he lets them out. It is driving Radek insane.

However, the minute they are in the door Laura is there and Evan is hugging her, twirling her, exclaiming over the lace scarf she has fashioned around her shoulders and the impressive turnout that crowds the small gallery. He kisses her temple and congratulates her. It’s a convincing performance of Evan Lorne as Himself.

"Hello, Radek," Laura says, taking Radek’s hands in hers and kissing both his cheeks. "How are you?"

Radek says he is fine, tells Laura she is glowing and tries to find something in her face that could tell him—does she notice that Evan is strained? Does she know _why_?

But Laura is quickly swept up by people coming into the gallery, and someone is taking Radek’s coat and hanging it for him.

"Wine?" Evan asks once their jackets are gone.

"Yes, and art."

The gallery is overheated. It’s only slightly over zero outside, but inside it must be eighty degrees. Evan pulls at his collar as he talks about one of Laura’s pieces, a huge, twisted beautiful thing, explaining that the medium was aerated cement. Radek is surprised and impressed; it looks like glossed wood.

"How does she do it?"

"High levels of heat and pressure," Evan replies. "Basically, she blows it up. She’s a damn pyro, is what it all comes down to." 

Radek twitches a smile. He opens his mouth to ask Evan if he knows how Laura manages to blow up chunks of cement in between working at the shop, sewing costumes and badgering Evan about the performance piece she still goes on about every chance she gets—but Laura herself interrupts him.

"Lorne. I want to borrow you for a minute. You don’t mind, do you Radek?"

"No, of course not," Radek waves a hand. Laura looks determined, which is her default setting, but Evan's glare lacks the playfulness it usually carries when he and Laura pretend to argue. Laura's fingers grip Evan's upper arm tighter the more he tries to stare her down. 

"Good!" She smiles sunnily at Radek before turning sternly to Evan, "Lorne, come. Now."

Evan looks miserable as Laura drags him off. Radek wonders what it is she's so set on discussing. It's not the performance piece--if it were, she would have ribbed Evan about it with Radek there to laugh along. In fact, Laura hasn't said much about the piece lately. She has been almost _careful_ around Evan, teasing him less and asking him with care, "You okay, honey?" Radek thinks she knows something about what has Evan so off-kilter, and there is jealousy there because Radek is clueless and frustrated. 

After ten minutes or so, Radek gets restless and starts looking around for Evan and Laura in the crowd. The glass front of the gallery is a bit fogged from the heat inside, but he can see well enough to tell that they aren’t out front. Radek makes a circuit of the gallery, keeping his eyes open and his neck craned. He still doesn’t spot them, but he does notice that the gallery has a rear exit. The door is propped open slightly with a brick, probably in an attempt to let out some of the stifling air in the gallery. Radek retrieves his coat from the rack near the door and steps out. 

He finds himself in the alley behind the gallery, crowded with boxes and dumpsters. He can hear Laura’s voice coming from a few feet away, on the other side of one of the dumpsters.

"We’ll go back in a minute, Lorne. Talk to me."

Evan’s voice comes back tight with annoyance. "This isn’t something I want to talk about, damn it, and I’m cold."

"You have been a disaster for over a month. Almost two. I don’t blame you, Lorne, I really don’t. But you need to talk to someone about it."

"I talked to you."

"You told me in three sentences, once. You should tell Radek."

"I can’t."

"Why not?"

"Let me define the word _classified_ for you, Cadman—"

"Oh give me a break! You told me!"

"You’re different…you’re…military."

Laura snorts indelicately. "Am not. Daddy is; doesn’t make me anything but an army brat."

"You understand."

"And Radek won’t?"

Radek leans against the wall on his side of the dumpster. He knows he should go inside, let Evan tell him about whatever it is that is bothering him on his own time. But Laura was right—two months of wondering, and Radek is reaching the end of his tether.

"I don’t know," Evan is saying. "It’s a lot to dump on a person—"

"Lorne, he’s an astrophysicist for God’s sake, he’ll know—"

"—that doesn’t mean—"

"—and don’t think I don’t know that’s part of why you were so into him in the first place."

There is a long pause and then Evan says, "Fuck you, Cadman."

"Oh, I’m not saying it’s why you stayed. I mean, you do have a thing for the smart ones, Lorne. You admit it yourself. Listen, I know you love the guy. He loves you. It’s cute as hell, really it is. But you thought to yourself, when you met him, here is someone who might understand some day. When you decided to tell, you wanted someone who would get it."

"You don’t know—"

"Does he know about David?"

"No."

Radek feels his body go hot, despite the freeze around him. David. Radek cannot think beyond the name: David.

He turns and lets himself back into the gallery. He stands there for a moment, with no idea where he should go now. Leave? Stay? Wait for Evan, smile as though he didn’t just eavesdrop on the conversation, pretend he doesn’t want to ask, _Who is David?_

Radek doesn’t want to think the things he thinks then, wants to hold on to what he _knows_ to be true. Evan is too honest to be involved with someone else and keep it from Radek. His expressions always give him away. Radek would _know_—

But he doesn’t know. He hasn’t known what is in Evan’s head for months now and suddenly Radek is terrified to find out.

He leaves.

**7\. odkrýt**

Radek takes a cab the short distance to his apartment and finds himself sitting by the window an hour later. He misses the pigeons. They don’t come at night.

He wonders about Evan, about the mysterious _David_, and about classified information. Radek can’t begin to imagine what has happened. Evan is no longer a member of the service, so this must have something to do with his past and not something that has happened recently. At least, not whatever it was that is considered "classified". Nothing makes any sense. Radek's mind is wild with possibilities, and he's angry--angry that Laura knows what he does not, that Evan won't just _tell him_, and at himself for his own doubt. 

Radek wants to find paper and pencil, write out equations and scratch his head over them. He wants to do something that he understands. Radek understands science. He contemplates doing just that. Perhaps a millennium problem, for fun. He could chase his own tail round and round on some impossible hypothesis and lose himself in the magic and beauty and solidity of numbers.

He can’t move.

Radek hears the key in the lock and looks to the door as Evan lets himself in. They exchanged keys just before the trip to Boston. Evan spends most of his time in Radek’s apartment. Radek can’t think of any recent night that Evan didn’t spend here. _David_, Radek’s brain supplies. Who must he be, if Evan can’t have been seeing him in all this time. A coworker, perhaps. A distant relative.

"You’re here." Evan says, surprised. "Why did you leave?"

"I…"

Radek looks back out to the alley below and tries to find the correct words. Perhaps he could say everything in Czech and be done with it. Let Evan figure it out, let him wonder for a change. Radek is suddenly very tired, the anger ebbing away. He turns, sagging against the window sill, and wishes he was the type to shout. Instead, he feels he can barely speak. 

"What is making you like this?" He asks, softly, not looking at Evan. 

"Like...like what?"

Evan shuts the door to the apartment. Radek hears the locks clicking into place, listens to the swish of fabric as Evan takes off his coat. He turns away from the window. 

"Please--just tell me. Who is David?" 

Radek's hands move, even as he tries to still them. He feels the urge to stretch out his arms and turn up his palms in a plea for truth. He ends up crossing them tightly across his chest, holding himself up. Evan had been moving around, putting his keys down and picking things up off the kitchen table. He stops, suddenly and Radek closes his eyes in the dead silence.

"How do you…"

"I came to find you. I heard…things. I’m sorry I listened, I just wanted—I have been afraid—"

"Radek, I—"

"Who is David?"

Radek is afraid that he sounds like a shrill fishwife, despite the way his voice has become barely more than a whisper. He thinks he probably sounds suspicious and jealous. Perhaps he does, but he's mostly confused and sick with worry. 

"A friend of mine," Evan says, "from before. He…died. Recently."

Evan is standing with his arms frozen at his sides. His eyes are wide, and he looks frightened and poised for action, like an animal about to bolt. Radek pushes away from the window taking a step toward Evan, reaching out not to touch but in question.

"Why would you not tell me this?"

"I can’t tell you about it, it’s…I can’t." Evan shifts his weight as though debating stepping away. 

Radek takes another step closer, slowly so as not to startle him. "It’s classified?"

"Yes." Evan says shortly, making jerky little movements with his hands. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, turns his head away, and Radek can see his jaw clenching against whatever it is he can't say.

"You could have--" Radek struggles not to move any closer, not to pull Evan in and hold him until the pain passes. "You might have said you lost someone." 

"I would have wanted—I want to tell you, Radek. I need to tell someone and." Evan finally moves, though he doesn't back away as Radek expected. It's a relief when he lurches to the side, clumsily stumbling to sit on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his hands at his temples. "There is no shrink to go to for this, unless I go to one of theirs and I just can’t."

Certain now that Evan isn't going to move further away from him, Radek prods gently. "Theirs?"

Evan drops his hands to hang loosely between his knees. He stares at Radek, considering him. After several moments he holds out one hand and says softly, "Come here. Please?" 

Radek goes, sits next to him. Evan is finally looking him in the eyes and what Radek sees in them is enough to knock him breathless. He fumbles for Evan's hand, tangling their fingers and squeezing, hard. "I--"

Evan shushes him by raising his free hand and shaking his head slightly.

"What you heard…Did you think--?" 

Radek looks down at their hands and swallows hard. Evan ducks to find his eyes again and says, "You thought there was someone else."

"I did not know." Radek whispers, feeling guilty but with that voice in the back of his head insisting that it could have been true.

Evan tightens his grip on Radek's hand and sucks in a breath. "Jesus Christ, Radek. There would never be anyone else."

Radek stutters. "I...You. I'm sorry, I--"

Evan just sighs. He manages to look both exasperated and fond. He says, "Love you. You know?"

"Yes," Radek breathes, and _finally_ he can speak. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I just. I didn't _know&gt;_\--"

Evan waves a hand, "Wait. Listen."

Radek waits.

"I’m going to tell you something very, very big," Evan says, his voice steadying over each word. He looks up, takes Radek’s hands. "And you are going to fucking freak out. Do you understand? This is really, really big."

"I understand," Radek says. He swallows against the relief in his throat. "Tell me, please."

"Radek, I wasn’t shot down over Afghanistan."

Before Radek can say a word, Evan is hushing him with his fingers. "I’m going to tell you, just let me. Okay?"

Radek nods. He would let Evan talk for days if it came to that.

Evan starts talking, and somewhere around "wormhole travel", Radek nearly faints. He does not faint, but springs up from his sofa shouting in Czech and Evan is watching him with the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"...traveling so far within the galaxy!" Radek is muttering, "In a millisecond...oh my God. The power involved--"

"Well," Evan interrupts, drawling a little, "yeah. It's a lot of power. But they kind of...found a really good battery. We can get to, uh...other galaxies with it. I mean, we don't have one with a charge anymore but--"

"Other galaxies?"

"One. Pegasus."

Radek drops back down onto the sofa with a soft _thump_. "I can't--How?"

"Zero Point Module. I don't know how they work, exactly, but--"

"As in _zero point energy_?" Radek whispers hoarsely, hands in his own hair, tugging. It creates a bit of an Einstein effect, and with his eyes wide behind his glasses, he looks every bit the mad scientist.

"Yeah. That's about...right."

Radek let's out a hysterical, strangled laugh that he swallows, gasping and staring at Evan in wonder. 

"You look like I just told you you won a million dollars and oh, by the way, Santa Claus is real." Evan says, smiling fondly.

"I--" Radek throws up his hands, which are itching to grab something to write with and _figure it out_. But he can't seem to stop staring at Evan, who really has sort of handed Radek the world just now. So he takes his hands and grabs for Evan, kisses him hard and goes straight for the buttons on his shirt.

Evan laughs into Radek's mouth, twists his head to the side and says, "Don't you want to--"

"Not now." Radek says sharply. "I can't think about it. Stop. We need to--"

"Yeah," Evan agrees, shrugging out of his shirt and standing up. He pulls Radek with him. "Yeah, we really do."

They don't make it to the bedroom, deciding instead to strip halfway out of their clothes before falling back onto the sofa, bare chests and legs still trapped in tangled pants. Radek presses down against Evan, aligning their cocks so that skin can move slickly against skin, hot and velvety. Shuddering, they cling to each other, Evan's arms tight around Radek while Radek breathes into the crook of Evan's neck.

Radek thanks the stars that Evan is _here_, under him and against him, that it's all going to be okay. He forgets all about space-time and wormholes when he comes, hot and sticky, all over himself and Evan. Evan follows soon after, his mouth wet against Radek's cheek, stammering nonsensically.

"_Thank you_," Radek says, and it comes from somewhere deep and gravelly, the part of himself that had been _so terrified_. He isn't sure what he's thanking Evan for; whether it's for telling Radek, breaking open the universe with a handful of words, or for not leaving him--it doesn't matter. Radek says, "I love you."

Later, once they are slightly less sticky but much more naked and settled in bed, Evan continues to talk. He explains that David Parrish was one of his team members, that Evan was injured in a crash involving something called a _puddlejumper_, and subsequently sent home. Before any of that is revealed though, Evan tells Radek about crossing the threshold into another galaxy. 

"We didn’t know if we’d be able to get back right away, if things were…well, the way they ended up being, I guess."

Radek focuses on breathing, in and out, in and out. "How did you get back?"

"The Daedalus," Evan replies. "It’s a ship."

"A _space shi_p," Radek clarifies, "One that can travel between galaxies?"

"Yeah. Hyperdrive."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah. Sorry. Do you want some water? Or anything?"

Evan is only half teasing. Radek has calmed slightly, his initial shock dampened by post-sex fog, though he still can't quite _believe it_.

"No, please. Tell me the rest." 

Evan tells Radek about the city under miles of ocean, of the jolting shake as it rose from the water and into sunlight. "It was bright. Really bright. And we were up. It was…amazing."

He describes the craft called a puddlejumper. "We took them out and they flew like a dream for gene carriers. So cool, Radek. You could probably tinker around with one for the rest of your life. They are so cool."

But there hadn’t been enough power to use the stargate to return to Earth, so the expedition began to search for power sources. On one mission through the gate, Evan’s craft was attacked.

"Fucking Genii," Evan spat, "I went down like an anvil. Inertial dampeners were done for and when I hit, I hit hard. The injuries were exactly like I said before—My arm, my leg. I ended up with a pretty bad infection. The Daedalus finally came a few weeks after that and they shipped me home."

Radek knows he should be more shocked than he actually is. The cognitive dissonance he should be feeling, however, isn’t quite happening. He is torn between the desire to hear the rest of the story, to understand who David Parrish was and what he meant to Evan and the burning need to grab paper and pen and start figuring out how any of this is remotely possible. His skin tingles.

"I never saw David again," Evan says. "He was a botanist. Funny little…scientist guy."

"You like those."

"I do."

"Did you love him?"

"I don’t know," Evan says, and for the first time in what feels like such a long time, his face is open again and Radek knows he means it. "But it was okay. I came back here, to Earth—"

Radek feels slightly faint again.

"—and he was still there, and that was okay. I moved on, obviously. I came here, I found you, I’m happy." Evan draws in a deep breath. "Never doubt that I’m happy, Radek."

Evan smiles at him and touches him and sighs. "But they lost the city several weeks ago. There was no one there who really knew how to fix it, you know? That’s what I got from Sheppard’s email, anyway. He said he was back and that it was over. That’s all he can really say."

"Classified, yes." Radek murmurs absently, his brain alternating between _Wormhole Travel_!, alight with the space, the numbers, the _possibility_ of it all and _Lost city of Atlantis, my God_ and _Evan, Evan, Evan._

"But when I left things were real bad," Evan is saying. "We couldn’t get anything to work right. Simpson and Kavanagh got the city out of the water but once that was done and the ZPM’s—"

_Zero Point Module, my GOD! _

"—were more or less depleted. Shields were a disaster and the Wraith…But they were gonna give it their best shot. SGC, I mean. With the city."

_Space vampires,_ můj bože.

"They failed, though."

"Yeah. Sheppard told me in the email, who was gone. David, Simpson, Elizabeth…a lot of others. It’s just been…hard. I thought someday I could find them all, see how everything turned out. See David, introduce you to him. God, introduce you to _Elizabeth_, you would love her. Sheppard couldn’t give me specifics so I don’t even know how the city was when they left it. I don’t know if it’s still there or if the Wraith flattened it, sunk her to the bottom of the sea."

"You found out just after Boston?"

"Yeah."

Radek gets a grip on himself and meets Evan’s troubled eyes. "Oh, _miláčku_."

Evan sighs and casts his eyes away. "I’m sorry, Radek. I’ve been a mess and I’m so sorry I put you through it, but I didn’t know if I could say anything. I should’ve known."

"Please, don’t apologize," Radek says, taking Evan’s face in his hands and leaning in to rest their foreheads together. Evan leans into the touch.

"I love you," Evan says, gripping Radek’s forearms. Radek murmurs softly in Czech, "_Miluju tě_."

**8\. naživu**

In the spring, when the buildings of New York City finally stop creating whistling tunnels of wind that could knock a person over and the sun is trying its best to warm what bits of sidewalk it can reach as Spring tries to beat Winter into submission, Radek finds himself loitering against the wall of a downtown gallery on his new cell phone, with Rodney McKay gabbing away on the other end of the line.

"I hope your flyboy is good, whatever it is he’s doing." Rodney grumbles, "I'd come witness his genius, but I have to be in Colorado in three days and then I’m leaving the planet."

Radek rolls his eyes and says, "Quite alright, Rodney. I'll send Evan your love." 

"Yes, well." Rodney clears his throat."If I’m killed by Goa’uld or something, I’d like you to know that uh, it's been...That is--"

In a few days, Rodney will take his first steps into Cheyenne Mountain. Radek smiles to himself, remembering the flash of blue, the slug of the event horizon shooting outward then sucking back in to settle, serenely, into a shimmering gateway.

It had been surprisingly simple to attract the SGC. Evan had suggested it over breakfast a handful of weeks after he told Radek the biggest secret the military was trying to keep.

"Write a paper," he had said without preamble.

"What?" Radek froze with his coffee halfway to his lips. He set the mug down and waited for Evan to explain.

"You want to go," Evan had said, waving his hand upward to the sky. "So write a paper that gets a little too close to what they don’t want anyone to know, and they’ll be on you like bees to honey. Do it."

"I don’t—"

"You’ve been jumpy as hell ever since you found out. You wanna go." Evan shrugged. "I don't blame you, Radek. I...I would go back if I could. I don't think I can ever...But I want you to do it, if that's what you want."

So Radek had done it and lo and behold, Samantha Carter had been in his living room exchanging pleasantries with Evan and jumping as pigeons made kamikaze flights at Radek’s curtains.

Radek will make another trip to Colorado in the summer and he will consult with Rodney concerning repairs to Atlantis.

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?"

Radek snaps back to the present. "What?"

Rodney sighs over the line. "_Atlantis_."

"Yes, yes. I was thinking about it."

"You know, it’s probably the bravest thing I’ve ever done, agreeing to go. Wraith! Hello! But with the ZedPM find we can shield and I guess that reduces some of the danger, right? Right, Radek? At least you’ll be there, every once in a while."

"Hmm," Radek agrees vaguely. He tries not to regret the fact that Rodney happened to be working on similar theories when Radek was being scooped up by the SGC. He also tries not to be annoyed that Rodney came up with all of it without any prior knowledge of the existence of the stargate whereas Radek had a bit of a nudge in the right direction.

Rodney had broken confidentiality within hours of the offer, calling Radek and crowing, "_You’ll never believe where I’m going!_"

"Listen," Radek says now, "I have to go, Evan starts soon."

"Right. Art spectacle. Well, I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"In a few months." Radek says with as much reassurance as he can muster. "You'll be fine, Rodney. Evan tells me that this Sheppard is quite impressive."

"Right, right. Trust me, I've heard all about the infamous Colonel Sheppard from Carter, who I think has a crush on the guy. I don't know what makes him _that_ great, really. I'll find out when I meet him in, oh, God. Three days. Radek--"

"Rodney. I'll talk to you soon."

"Right."

Radek clicks the phone shut and heads into the gallery space. 

It is cool in the gallery, a breeze coming in off the street when the door opens and the last stragglers file in. Radek settles in a folding chair and breathes deep, letting the conversation with Rodney fall away as he takes in the space. 

The stage is empty, backdropped by a billowing white fabric. The lights dim until they go out, and the space is plunged into blackness. Then, a projector flicks on, casting the white sheet at the back of the stage in a watery blue light that ripples and undulates. Evan, in black, stands in front of the waves of blue.

Radek notices Laura off to a side, watching with her hands clasped and looking like Christmas has come early.

Evan is still, standing at attention at center stage, and then the sounds begin.

It is a whirring, a grinding, a sonic booming and then it’s wind, it’s a squeal, and the backdrop is changing to fiery red, to blurs of stars and then bright, bright white.

Evan doesn’t move. He is ramrod straight and at attention, his body screaming soldier from every angle.

Radek leans forward to watch closely. Evan has never been so still.

He stands in front of the stark whiteness until a burst of color explodes behind him, and then there are images spinning out and around.

"Milky Way," Radek murmurs. He is watching so closely that he sees it before anyone could have perceived it. Evan is relaxing, inch by inch. He is letting his shoulders drop, loosening his hands, letting his hips slouch just so. The images on the scrim are zooming in fast, through clusters of stars, past bits of rock and swinging around the Moon, and then burning up in Earth’s atmosphere—by the time it stops, in a cacophony of light and increasing sound, Evan is on the ground with his head in his hands. 

The sounds abruptly cease and there is a long, protracted silence. When the silence is cut, it is by the softest tones of a piano.

Evan is unlacing his boots and throwing them aside along with socks. He is stripping out of his shirt, struggling to his feet to deal with his belt. Across his chest there are symbols painted in black greasepaint. He turns away, and the symbols continue on his back.

Radek recognizes the shapes of gate symbols immediately. 

Evan is stepping out of his black BDU’s, left only in a pair of gray boxer briefs, stretching his arms out as the burning atmosphere behind him explodes into constellations, then back to whiteness and then there are numbers, symbols, scratches and scribbles in black, flowing over the screen. Evan, with arms outstretched, steps backwards one, two, three steps and the projections cast themselves over his bare skin, mingling with the symbols that lead to Pegasus.

Radek knows the chicken scratch that flows over Evan’s body. It is his own writing, probably taken directly from one of his notebooks. It’s wormhole theory and power schematics he started toying with not long after Evan poured out the story of Atlantis to him months before. Radek can barely breathe as the sound of crashing waves overpowers the performance space.

Evan’s face is shining with tear tracks as he lowers his arms, breathing heavily. Without warning, the theater is pitch black and silent.

When the lights return, Evan is gone. 

**9\. vznik** 

That night, Radek removes the paint from Evan’s skin with cold cream and a soft cloth. He strips away the gray briefs and throws them to a far off corner. He traces constellations into Evan’s thighs, whispers numbers into his ear.

Radek slides slowly into Evan’s body and tells him, in Czech, that he will never leave him, that he is beautiful. He tells him, in English, that he loves him and gasps words he can’t seem to hang onto as he thrusts and Evan pushes to meet him. Evan’s back ripples, black streaks, traces of makeup running with sweat down to the dip just above his ass.

"You were like a supernova," Radek murmurs, once they are both wrung out and sated with legs draped over one another and hands sliding over sweat-slick skin. "It was... transcendent."

It _had_ been. Radek wishes he had the words to explain that watching Evan had been like the world outside the gallery doors, changing and shifting, making room for things to come. Evan, with equations flickering over his face and glyphs painted on his skin, had been a gust of fresh air blowing away dead leaves and uncertainty, carrying with it the promise of sun and renewal. 

"Laura rewrote it," Evan says sleepily, "Because of you."

And this, Radek wants to say, is the crux. It was about both of them. He has no idea what the piece would have looked like had Evan agreed to perform it months ago. He doesn't know what Laura had originally planned. He does know that after the performance, Laura had clasped both their hands and for once, didn't say anything. Radek thinks about Laura's smile, Evan's flushed skin decorated with dead language, and the plane tickets (to Pegasus, by way of Colorado) buried under the detritus of Radek's desk. 

He presses his lips to Evan's forehead.

"I will never forget it," Radek whispers, "_Dosmrti, dosmrti na to nezapomenu_."

**End.**


End file.
